


Traitorous Men

by sinemoras09



Category: Fate/Zero, Fate/stay night & Related Fandoms
Genre: Backstory, Friends to Enemies, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-29
Packaged: 2018-04-26 12:47:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5005345
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinemoras09/pseuds/sinemoras09
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Series of drabbles about Diarmuid's flight with Grainne. Pre-series. No spoilers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Traitorous Men

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally taken from the fic, [The Finest One](http://archiveofourown.org/works/4824959), where Waver summons Lancer, but the flashback didn't really fit so I edited it out. On re-read though I still quite liked it, which is why I decided to post it here. The character Osgar is one of the Knights of Fianna mentioned in Irish Mythology [here](http://www.gutenberg.org/files/14465/14465-h/14465-h.htm).
> 
> I really wanted to explore Lancer's reasoning for fleeing with Grainne, despite being loyal to Fionn and having knowledge of his curse. I may decide to turn this into a collection of drabbles, but we'll see how this goes.

It was raining when Osgar found him: a lone figure standing in a yellow field, dark hair sticking to his neck and face. He was holding both his spears, but he did not take a stance. Instead, he merely looked at Osgar, his mouth drawn and his eyes filled with quiet sorrow.

"Diarmuid Ua Duibhne. First Knight of the Fianna, now traitor to Fionn," Osgar said.

"Osgar mac Cumhaill, son of Oisin. Second Knight of the Fianna, now come to kill me," Diarmuid said. He lifted his spears heavily. "I have no joy in facing you, my friend."

"I can say the same," Osgar said, and he lifted his spear.

The two men regarded each other silently, rain falling over the both of them.

"Diarmuid," Osgar said. "As your friend, I beg of you. Lay down your arms and come with me now. The High King knows you were under a geas. He may yet spare your life."

"And what of Grainne?" Diarmuid said. He lowered his spear.

"She will be tried for treason and witchcraft," Osgar said.

"Treason and witchcraft?" Diarmuid said. "There will be no trial. There will only be death by drowning or fire!"

"Indeed," Osgar said, quietly. "She put you under a geas, my friend, and she disobeyed the King her father. The royal family suffers for her shame."

Diarmuid's face was pale.

"Osgar," Diarmuid said. "I would give my life willingly, here and now, to appease both Lord Fionn and the King. But on my honor, I cannot do that. I will not knowingly abandon Grainne."

"Are you mad?" Osgar said. "She is under the curse. She does not love you."

"All the more I cannot let her die," Diarmuid said. "The curse of my face compelled her, Osgar. She was not in her right mind!"

"The Lord gives us free will in the face of temptation, does He not?" Osgar said.

"Even so, my friend. I am still responsible."

Rain slid down the sides of Diarmuid's face, that lock of curling hair sticking to his skin. The nights on the run have not been kind to Diarmuid, and Osgar could see the dark hollows under Diarmuid's eyes and the smudges of dirt and grime on his fingers. Osgar could see his exhaustion, could feel it in his bones, but just as he could see that Diarmuid was very well nearing his limit, he also knew that Diarmuid would claw and spear at him with every ounce of his strength in spite of it.

Osgar sighed. "You swore an oath to Grainne," Osgar said, and he lowered his spear. "A pity neither self-preservation nor common sense will hope to break it."

Diarmuid blinked, unsure. "You are letting me go?" Diarmuid said.

"Aye, I am. Against my better judgment, no less," Osgar said. He glared, then pushed up his arm guard.

"Wound me," Osgar said.

"I do not unders--"

"A noble traitor and a right fool, too! Wound me so that I may tell Fionn honestly that you struck me with your spear."

"Oh!" Diarmuid said, and he held out his spear.

The cut was shallow, but long. Osgar grimaced, bearing it.

"I thank you, my friend," Diarmuid said, quietly. "You do not know how much this means to me."

"Make no mistake," Osgar said, and he wrapped the cut on his arm, roughly. "The next time we meet, it will be in front of the king's armies. I shall do battle with you until one of us falls." Diarmuid nodded, quietly.

"Until the next time, then," Diarmuid said.

"Until the next," Osgar said. He hitched his cloak and sword and headed toward the wall.


	2. Druid Bonds

They were running. Feet splashed against puddles as they ran, Diarmuid's hand gripping Grainne's as he pulled her forward. 

"Diarmuid! Wait--"

Grainne's foot caught a root, and she fell, splashing into the mud. 

"Grainne!" Diarmuid turned hard, then pulled her upright. "Grainne, we must hurry!"

"Send the dogs!" the soldiers called out behind them. An arrow flew past Diarmuid's cheek.

"Grainne--"

"My ankle is twisted. I cannot stand." Grainne's face was pale. "You must go on without me."

Diarmuid's head snapped up. Behind them, the soldiers were gaining traction, the sound of dogs barking and rushing forward.

Diarmuid hoisted Grainne in his arms and began running. 

"Stop!" the leader held out his arm as the other soldiers flanked around them. 

"But sir! They are leaving! We are so close!"

"They are going into the woods." The leader's eyes narrowed. "Those woods are fierce and they are alone without food or water. The cold will do them in soon enough."

 

*****

 

Grainne sat on a log while Diarmuid tended to the fire. Her ankle was tender, and she had sucked in her breath with pain when Diarmuid wrapped it firmly with cloth and a wooden splint. "Forgive me," he had said, and he gave the cloth one final tug. "I know this must hurt."

"There is nothing to be forgiven," Grainne said, and Diarmuid watched her with sorrowful eyes.

Now Grainne watched as Diarmuid tossed in a few branches of firewood, stirring the ashes and coaxing the flames to rise. "We are lucky," he was saying. "There is a stream of fresh water not far from here. We can stay here tonight."

"I thank you," Grainne said, and she pulled her shawl close around her shoulders. "Truly your aid was heaven-sent."

"It was nothing, my lady." A hollow response. Grainne looked at him sadly, hunching forward.

She had him under a geas. True, she had fallen for him the moment she set eyes on him, and even though her love was enchanted, she knew herself well enough to know that she could never love Fionn, a man who was old enough to be her grandfather. "A curse on me, my father! I thought Oisin or Osgar was to be my betrothed!" Grainne said. 

"That is true, my daughter, but Fionn has lost his wife to sickness, and now he requests for your hand."

She did not want to involve Diarmuid. Her plan originally was to have Osgar or Oisin help her. Oisin was the eldest son of Fionn, and Osgar was Fionn's grandson. She had figured that if either of them helped her, Fionn would be forced to admit that he was too old to marry her, and that she would be wed to Osgar or Oisin instead.

She slipped a vial of sleeping potion into a casket of wine, and offered cups to all the knights at the table. The knights took their cups gladly, but she made sure Oisin and Osgar did not drink. "And what of our cups, fair Grainne?" Oisin said. Grainne gave them a beautiful smile. 

"I have special wine for the kin of my betrothed," and she gave them cups that were not poisoned.

Diarmuid did not drink. He retired early, smiling at his brothers and bowing at his lord.

"My lady," one knight said. He leaned forward, one hand clutching the edge of the table. "I fear this wine may be too much for me--"

He fell, his hand knocking the cup and spilling the wine, the weight of his body dropping heavily onto the floor.

 _Oh no_ , Grainne thought. _He has drank too much potion_ , and she glanced over at the other knights, knitting her brow.

But the other knights just laughed. "It seems young Eoghan canna hol' his drink!" and there was raucous laughing and clinking of glasses. Grainne sighed quietly, relieved.

Night came. The knights were all passed out, sleeping more heavily because of the sleeping potion. At her feet, the first knight still lay, snoring softly beneath the table. Quietly Grainne lit a torch and ran toward Oisin's room.

"He is my father, fair Grainne! I cannot help you," Oisin said. "For love of him I shall not tell him of your treachery! Wed him and be happy," Oisin said, and he shut the door. 

She ran down the corridor, the orange light from her torch bouncing against the walls. She knocked on Osgar's door.

"You are beautiful, fair Grainne, and any man would be lucky to have you as his bride. But I cannot help you," Osgar said. "He is my grandfather, whom I love too dearly. For love of him, I will not tell him of your deceit." And he closed the door.

"What will I do?" Grainne said. She heard the sound of footsteps down the corridor. 

"Lady Grainne?" Diarmuid looked out, and in the torchlight he looked even more beautiful than Grainne remembered.

Grainne held her breath. "Diarmuid O'Dyna. I remember you."

"Aye," he said. He smiled. He had a beautiful smile. "What brings you out at this late an hour?"

"Love and desperation," Grainne said. She took a step forward.

 

*****

 

"Where were you?" Grainne said. She had woken to find Diarmuid had left the camp. "You were gone all morning, I was afraid you had left."

"I would never abandon you, my lady. You know this."

"It would be your right if you did," Grainne said. She saw Diarmuid's face and leaned forward.

"What happened?" Grainne said. Diarmuid shook his head.

"I was engaged by Osgar, who took arms against me."

Grainne's eyes widened. Diarmuid smiled.

"My lady, fear not. We only spoke briefly before he let me go."

Grainne watched as Diarmuid sat down, quietly wrapping his spears. The canvas cloth he used was ragged, frayed at the edge were he had torn it to wrap Grainne's ankle, and it did not cover the whole of the spear properly. "Thank you," Grainne said. She sat beside him, carefully. "The geas I put upon you only was to help me flee that night. You are no longer beholden to me."

Diarmuid glanced up at her, then went back to tying his cloth. "I promised you that I would help you," Diarmuid said. He kept his eyes forward, concentrating on knotting the canvas beneath the blade. "On my honor as a knight, I will not go back on my word."

"Diarmuid," Grainne said. Diarmuid looked up at her and smiled.

"Rest well, fair Grainne," Diarmuid said. "We have a few hours yet before nightfall."


	3. Spear

Diarmuid's red spear lay heavily on the grass, and quietly Grainne stooped to move it.

His spear was heavy. Grainne's eyes widened. She had not realized how heavy it was, watching how Diarmuid wielded it with such grace and ease. 

She picked it up. The metal of the pole was heavy and cool, and she could feel the smooth raised lines that wrapped around its body. The etchings were intricate - delicate arabesques amid heavy, raised lines, she traced these etchings like braille, marveling silently at its construction. 

"My lady?" Diarmuid said, and Grainne started, turning around. 

"Forgive me, my knight, I only meant to move your spear."

"You need not apologize, fair Grainne. Allow me to move it for you," and he picked up his spear and laid it carefully beside his yellow one. 

Grainne watched as he moved, the line of his shirt stretching over his body. Because they had fled so quickly, he was without his armor, wearing only the sheaths to his sword and spears strapped across his waist and chest.

"Perhaps," Grainne said, and Diarmuid looked up. "Perhaps you would do well to teach me how to wield it."

"You mean my spears, my lady?"

"I only wish to protect myself," Grainne said. Diarmuid leaned back on his haunches, watching her.

"My lady, these spears are heavy and difficult to wield. I fear you would only injure yourself. A sword may be better," Diarmuid said, and he unsheathed it. "I have no doubt a lady such as yourself can wield it."

"May I?" Grainne said, and he held the hilt out toward her.

The sword was heavy. Two fists closed around the hilt, heavy in her palms. "You will teach me how to wield this?" Grainne said. Diarmuid nodded.

"If the lady wants," Diarmuid said. 

She held out the sword. The blade gleamed in the thin gray light. 

"I do," Grainne said, and she handed the sword back to him.


	4. A confession

Grainne was watching him again.

Diarmuid ran a cloth along the metal of his spear, frowning. There was that look upon Grainne's face, a light in her eyes and a hopeless infatuation, that made Diarmuid itch uneasily. 

"I love you," Grainne said, quietly. "Forgive me for saying it, my knight. But my feelings for you must be true."

Diarmuid sighed, then set down his spear.

"Does that bother you?" Grainne said. Diarmuid looked up at her. 

"My lady, you of all people should know this mark of mine is enchanted. You yourself are well-acquainted with magecraft," Diarmuid said. 

"A vexing curse to be sure, but the more I think of it, the more I know my feelings to be true."

Grainne folded her hands in her lap, looking at him steadily. "Any other man would use that curse to bed himself scores of hapless women. Any other man would state his claim that he fulfilled the geas, and abandon me accordingly. But not you, fair Diarmuid," Grainne said. "You are kind and gentle and noble beyond compare. You more than anyone are deserving of my love, and know that you alone will have it."

"You do not know me," Diarmuid said, quietly. Grainne smiled.

"I know enough," Grainne said. "Look upon me, Diarmuid. You blame yourself for me deserting Fionn, but I swear to you, I would have left him even without your curse."

"Forgive me, Grainne, but I do not believe that to be true."

"It is!" Grainne said. "That wretched old man, who forced his way to my betrothal! I was to marry Oisin or Osgar, not a man old enough to be my grandfather!"

"Hold still your tongue, Lady Grainne," Diarmuid said. "I may be a traitorous dog to him, but he is still my lord."

"Forgive me," Grainne said, and she hunched over, quietly.

"I am a wretched woman with whom you were dragged and for whom you cannot share her love. But you are a good man," Grainne said, and she looked at him. "I envy the woman who is deserving of you."


End file.
